The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories eBook

He dropped her hand almost contemptuously. There
was nothing lover-like about him at that moment.

“And remember,” he said, “that no
experiment can ever prove a success unless it is given
a fair trial. You will continue to be engaged
to me until I set you free. Is that understood?”

She did not answer him. She was pulling at the
loose ends of her veil with restless fingers, her
face downcast and very pale.

“Doris!” he said.

She glanced up at him sharply.

“I am rather tired,” she said, and her
voice quivered a little. “Do you mind if
I say good-night?”

“Answer me first,” he said.

She shook her head.

“I forget what you asked me. It doesn’t
matter, does it? There’s someone coming,
and I don’t want to be caught. Good-night!”

She whisked round with the words before he could realize
her intention, and in a moment was at the door.
She waved a hand to him airily as she disappeared.
And Caryl was left to wonder if her somewhat precipitate
departure could be regarded as a sign of defeat or
merely a postponement of the struggle.

CHAPTER III

THE KNIGHT ERRANT

It was the afternoon of Easter Day, and a marvellous
peace lay upon all things.

Maurice Brandon, a look of supreme boredom on his
handsome face, had just sauntered down to the river
bank. A belt of daffodils nodded to him from
the shrubbery on the farther shore. He stood and
stared at them absently while he idly smoked a cigarette.

Finally, after a long and quite unprofitable inspection,
he turned aside to investigate a boathouse under the
willows on Mrs. Lockyard’s side of the stream.
He found the door unlocked, and discovered within a
somewhat dilapidated punt. This, after considerable
exertion, he managed to drag forth and finally to
run into the water. The craft seemed seaworthy,
and he proceeded to forage for a punt-pole.

Fully equipped at length, he stepped on board and
poled himself out from the shore. Arrived at
the farther bank, he calmly disembarked and tied up
under the willows. He paused a few seconds to
light another cigarette, then turned from the river
and sauntered up the path between the high box hedges.

The garden was deserted, and he pursued his way unmolested
till he came within sight of the house. Here
for the first time he stopped to take deliberate stock
of his surroundings. Standing in the shelter of
a giant rhododendron, he saw two figures emerge and
walk along the narrow gravelled terrace before the
house. As he watched, they reached the farther
end and turned. He recognized them both.
They were Caryl and his host Abingdon.

For a few moments they stood talking, then went away
together round an angle of the house.

Scarcely had they disappeared before a girl’s
light figure appeared at an upstairs window.
Doris’s mischievous face peeped forth, wearing
her gayest, most impudent grimace.